


A Love For The Ages

by dutchmoxie



Series: Bellarke Tropes [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Crack, F/M, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 romance novels Bellamy and Clarke didn’t star in, and one they did </p>
<p>(6 smutty stories with all the ridiculousness a romance novel AU should have.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Love For The Ages

Miss Clarke Griffin was the epitome of virtue – the only child of the extremely wealthy Duke Griffin and his dearly departed wife. Her overprotective father had not let her out in society often, and so it was that her official coming out into society was scheduled just a month before Miss Griffin’s eighteenth birthday. 

There had been many offers before then, ranging from impoverished barons to extremely wealthy tradesmen who just wanted a titled wife. The beautiful blonde would be content with any husband who would treat her honorably – Duke Griffin was the main reason his daughter was still not affianced. 

The first serious candidate for Miss Griffin’s hand in marriage was an American explorer by the name of Wells Jaha – an exotic name that brought many a lady at Almack’s to whisper behind a waving fan. Truly, Duke Griffin would not let his daughter marry such a man. It was of no importance that mister Thelonius Jaha, the young man’s father, had been a family friend of the late Duchess Griffin. 

A proper lady marrying a man like mister Jaha would cause a scandal. And so, the young man never proposed to the beautiful Miss Griffin. The families upheld a public charade of friendship, but things were never quite the same. 

When American businessman Finnegan Collins came to Europe in search of a bride, no one knew that he’d previously eloped with his mistress, a Native-American woman going by the name of Raven. Mrs. Collins did not come to Europe with her husband, and for that reason Mr. Finnegan Collins was one of the most eligible prospects on the market. That is, until his eyes landed on young Miss Griffin. 

Their courtship was described as one of love at first sight, and one approved of by the Duke himself. The only person who seemed to disapprove of the match was an insignificant servant, the young butler of the Griffin household. 

This young man, a strapping lad of three-and-twenty years of age, had been with the Griffin family his entire life. His mother had been the personal maid of Duchess Griffin, and had unfortunately succumbed in the same accident as the Duchess. Therefore it fell to him, Bellamy Blake, to provide for his young sister, the bastard child of a renowned politician. 

Miss Octavia Blake was a stunning creature, and it was only her overprotective brother that kept her from being lured by several prominent society figures. Octavia was somewhat flighty and naïve, due to her being hidden away from society for most of her life. Now that she was training to be a governess, her brother had grown somewhat restless – he might have been lonely without his constant companion. 

Perhaps it was this that made him transfer his protection to the lovely Miss Griffin. Mr. Blake did not much like Mr. Collins, and made sure that the young woman was never left alone with the man. Surely, Mister Blake told himself that this was merely to avoid a compromising situation and a hasty marriage.

However, the situation was quite different from Mister Blake’s well thought-out arguments. See, the attraction of Miss Griffin was not foreign to young Mister Blake, no matter how vehemently he wished to deny it. 

It was not Mister Blake’s jealousy that made him look for holes in Mister Collins’ story, he told himself. Surely it was just professional worry over his employer’s daughter and her uncertain future if she were to return to the Colonies with Mister Collins. He had grown to care for Miss Clarke, as she had allowed him to call her in the privacy of her home. Also, he did not wish to see Duke Griffin unhappy or lonely. 

It was for this reason that he sent a message to the Americas. 

_To whom it may concern,_  
Mister Finnegan Collins is set to propose to Miss Clarke Griffin. If there is any information that needs to be known – let it be known.   
A concerned friend 

Bellamy Blake could have lost his employment if his sending of the letter was ever revealed to the Duke, and yet he took the risk. Young Mister Blake was simply not content to have his Princess marry just anyone. 

The memories of their childhood days got ever stronger with each day that passed without a response. He was certainly aware that correspondence with the colonies was extremely time-consuming, and that it was certainly possible that his missive had been lost at sea. Yet he found himself remembering those days long ago, when Miss Clarke Griffin had just been his Princess and he her faithful knight. 

A month passed without a response, and he was quickly losing hope. The courtship between Miss Clarke and Mister Collins was heading towards a proposal – and that meant that he would lose her forever. 

However, there was nothing he could do now, was there?

Tormented by those dark thoughts, he found himself wandering the grounds of the Griffin mansion every night. He was unable to sink into sleep, and therefore thought it was best his time was spent productively, by protecting the grounds of his home. 

“Finn,” he heard Miss Clarke’s voice one night. 

The young miss was laughing in a way he had not heard her do since before their mothers perished, and he stopped to relish in the sound for a short while. He really did adore to see her happy, even though it greatly pained him to hear her reach this happiness with Mister Collins instead of with him. 

“Miss Griffin?” he called out, making sure to sound polite and proper. 

“Oh,” she spoke, and he heard the rustling of her dress. “Mister Blake.” 

Her beloved might have made a heroic escape from the private grounds, since there was the sound of a horse riding off shortly after he first spoke. So surely, Miss Griffin was having un-chaperoned meetings with her intended on her father’s lands. It was simply not proper, and he had to remind her of the possible consequences. 

“Why are you out so late, Miss?” he stepped into the clearing. 

“I found myself unable to sleep,” Miss Clarke blushed charmingly, and once again he found himself jealous of that miserable Mister Collins. 

Miss Griffin had never been a great liar – and he, Bellamy Blake, has always been the best at seeing through her falsehoods to reveal the truth. Things were very similar this time, as he decided to wait for her to stop blushing to press further. 

However, that was before he noticed the red markings on Miss Clarke’s pale neck. That man had touched her too intimately, and she had to be warned of the possible dangers of allowing any man to do that. She had yet to be married, and therefore she had to curtail these moments of physical affection, no matter the double standard. He was fully aware that men were encouraged to express themselves physically. However, no man was allowed to express himself that way with his Princess – with Miss Clarke. 

“I am sure your intentions are pure,” Bellamy had to force himself to stay calm at the sight of those marks on his Princess. “I do not mean to overstep, but the presence of Mister Collins so late at night concerns me greatly. I must impress upon you the dangers to your reputation as a virtuous lady.” 

This has made Miss Clarke angry. It was immediately noticeable when her expression altered to include a tightly pressed mouth and a frown marring her delicate features. 

“You have overstepped, Mister Blake,” she was cruelly formal with him. 

“I do apologize, Princess,” the endearment slipped past his lips so easily. 

It has been years since he let himself use that name for her. Their friendship had come and gone long ago, seeing as a proper lady was never to associate with her staff in a friendly manner. Bellamy really thought he had accepted the change – only it turned out that he was perhaps more resentful than he had previously realized. 

“That is Miss Griffin to you,” she lifted her chin, displaying the marks on her neck once again. “You are not allowed to address me so informally.” 

Surely his Princess had not changed that much? Would she really display these marks so brazenly to infuriate him? She had liked provoking his infamous temper when they were young, but he had long since reigned in that side of him. Or so he thought. 

“My apologies Miss Griffin,” his feet carried him closer to her without his permission. 

Seeing her breath hitch at his closeness was the most marvelous sight he had ever witnessed in his pitiful life. His apologies were no lie, but he was unable to speak the words in the straightforward tone he knew was required of him. Bellamy’s temper continued to simmer under the surface, and his jealousy continued to heat his blood and sound like a dull roar in his tired ears. 

“Is that a proper apology?” Miss Clarke remained endlessly defiant. 

His responding smile was more roguish than it had any right to be. He was simply pleased that her fire had returned, and that he was allowed to move closer and closer to her tense body. Bellamy had not been this close to his Princess in years, and while he wondered how much further she would allow him to go, he was still pleased with the progress that he had made so far. 

She was beautiful like this, her long golden locks glowing silver in the pale moonlight, her blue eyes narrowed in anger, her full lips pursed. It had been so long since he had been allowed to witness her beauty in such an unguarded moment. 

Surely, he was halfway in love with her, and had been for years. 

“Miss Clarke,” he did not let her win. 

Her slender arm was within his reach, and so he took the liberty of taking her soft hand in his calloused one. When her only response to his boldness was to gasp, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

“Mister Blake,” his Princess failed to sound properly outraged. 

The marks on her neck were still infuriating to him, and a dark, almost inhuman part of him wished to mark her as his own. He had so long hoped that she would let him touch her like this – he had wished that she would be his Princess once more. 

“Yes, Princess?” his voice was low, running over her skin like a caress. 

“Should a proper apology not have a proper kiss?” Clarke was a vision, her voice hoarse as she sought the touch of his skin once more. 

“As you wish, Princess,” he was sure he was dreaming. 

Even if he would never know the touch of her hand again, even if this were the last time she would permit him to be near her, even if this were all an elaborate dream constructed by his jealous mind – he would never dream of denying her anything. 

“Kiss me Bellamy,” she ordered, impatient as ever. 

His dark chuckle raised shivers on the bare skin of her shoulder, and Bellamy once again marveled at the effect he seemed to have on his Princess. Her greedy hands pulled at him until their bodies were pressed tightly together, with nothing but air passing between the two of them. 

When he finally leaned in, the first thing he noticed is how soft her plump lips were, and how they moved invitingly against his in a dance he never thought he would perform with her. Her eager fumbling with the buttons of his coat made him smile against her lips, and when his Princess finally discovered some of his bare skin, she took full advantage by running teasing nails over the skin of his back. 

Her relative inexperience showed in her gasps, in the way she haltingly responded to the taunts of his tongue gliding against hers. She might have done this before with that Mister Collins, but Bellamy knew more of this woman than the other man ever would. 

Bellamy knew how ticklish Clarke was near her sides, and he took firm advantage of his knowledge of her when his warm hands tickled her through the thin fabric of her pale nightgown. Her resulting laugh was once he would treasure forever; their mouths still fused together by increasingly desperate kisses as she writhed against him to avoid those teasing hands. Bellamy groaned when her body brushed over his growing hardness, and she tore herself away from him, panting heavily. 

Was this rejection? 

“Clarke,” he had never felt so vulnerable. 

“Bellamy,” her voice was sure, even through her panting breaths. 

And then the minx did it again, purposefully rubbing her heated body against every line of his hard one. The curves of her breasts tauntingly in reach of his hand and mouth, he decided to show her what happened to girls who played with fire. 

His mouth was curved into a proud smirk when it moved to her chest, Clarke’s gasp in no way deterring him from his new goal. A thin nightgown like this one, pastel-tinted and growing see-through with his girl’s sweat, could be used all too well to heighten her pleasure. She would soon find out just how much. 

The fabric of her gown did not manage to hide her tight buds from him, and his mouth latched on unerringly.   
“Oh,” the sound of a moan from Clarke’s swollen lips nearly killed him with want. 

So he proceeded, giving all of his attention to first one and then the other breast, until the fabric is soaked through and clinging to her soft skin. 

“Bellamy,” his Princess whined. “Please.” 

Looking up at her, he noticed just how dark her blue eyes had gotten, beads of sweat running down her brow and into the hollow of her neck. Never had a woman’s body looked so tempting. 

“As you wish,” he whispered against her skin.

Words of love sprung to mind, and if he were any sort of poet, he would write sonnets dedicated to this woman in his arms. Still, he knew that no master of words could have captured the way she shone for him this night. 

With warm hands, he rucked up the soft material of her nightgown, revealing her pale, shapely legs to his heated gaze. His debauched Princess was trembling as his calloused fingers moved higher and higher on her long legs, closer and closer to her need. 

That is how his sister discovered them: Bellamy with his hands under Clarke’s skirts, their mouths meeting furiously as his Princess rubbed against him. 

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

Octavia Blake was no fool, and therefore she wasted no time tearing her brother away from his paramour. When his sister realized that the woman in question was the lady of the house, she smacked him and tore into him with choice words that she surely had not learned from her older brother. 

This all lead to him being separated from his Princess, as Octavia escorted Clarke back upstairs to her private chambers without as much as a protest. Surely his Princess had seen how unworthy he was of her. 

Bellamy believed that this was the reason that Miss Clarke kept her distance from him, and spent most of her time in her rooms or out with Mister Collins. Why would she give up everything up for a mere servant when she could marry well? His Princess deserved more than a quick romp in the gardens and a life as a servant. 

When Duke Griffin chose to have a ball to announce his daughter’s engagement to Finnegan Collins, Bellamy was forced to be present at his worst nightmare. As a servant, he was to stand by the door and help the guests to the ballroom, knowing that not one woman could compare to the guest of honor. 

Trouble arose rather quickly, and Bellamy was stunned that this trouble was seemingly unrelated to his own feelings of anger and jealousy. An uninvited guest had demanded access to the party, and the woman was making quite a scene. It simply would not do to have such a scandal in the presence of at least half the ton, so he was forced to take the woman aside until a coach could be prepared to return her to town. 

“I need to get into the party,” the beauty with the American accent was incapable of staying silent. “My husband is here.” 

Since all of the important guests were accounted for, Bellamy found it hard to believe that this woman with the tan skin was married to any of the men dancing in the ballroom. The woman did not look like any of the ladies of the ton, with an ill-fitting dress stretched tight over a swollen belly – Bellamy assumed she was a mistress out for money from the man who had gotten her with child. 

“Who is your husband?” he finally asked, hoping to catch this woman in a lie. 

“My name is Raven Collins,” the woman placed a hand on her belly, as if to keep herself and her unborn child calm. “I married Finnegan Collins four years ago.” 

So someone had received his letter. Bellamy had hoped for an acquaintance or family member who could prove that Collins was not trustworthy – but he had never dreamed that the piece of filth had a wife hidden away in the colonies. 

“Mrs. Collins,” he made sure to address the woman properly. “I do not mean to overstep in any way. However, Mister Collins is to be engaged to Miss Griffin. Do you have proof of your union with Mister Collins in your possession?” 

Mrs. Raven Collins wasted no time in handing a thick piece of paper, proclaiming that Finnegan Charles Collins had wedded Raven Reyes. The date was one over four years ago, and the document was properly signed and still valid. 

“Jasper,” his decision was made. “Would you mind requesting the Duke’s presence in the foyer? It is a rather urgent matter that must be resolved before the announcement.” 

The young footman was quick to follow his order, moving at a not quite proper speed, jostling some of the wealthy guests in his haste to find his employer. Bellamy sighed, approving of the other man’s speed, but not so much of his clumsy movements. Still, this would ensure that the matter was cleared up quickly and efficiently – and far away from their wealthy guests. The reputation of the Griffin family had to be maintained. 

“Is she pretty?” Mrs. Collins directed another question at him. “This girl?” 

“Miss Griffin is a paragon of beauty and virtue,” he recited the proper words in return, unable to reveal just how highly he thought of his Princess. 

Bellamy had his memories of the real Clarke Griffin, the woman who raised her chin when she ought to act demure, the woman who grinned and touched his body with irreverent glee, and the woman whose gasps he would never forget. However, those thoughts would only be shared with his sister or with Miss Clarke. 

“Mister Blake,” his employer frowned. “What is the meaning of this?” 

“I must ask your pardon for requesting your presence at such a crucial time,” Bellamy forced himself to stay calm. “I merely wish to introduce you to Mrs. Raven Collins, wife of Finnegan Collins. She traveled all the way from the colonies to be present here.” 

The Duke was greatly displeased to hear this news, and therefore Bellamy immediately presented him with proof of Mrs. Collins’ story. Surely the Duke would be happy that Miss Clarke would not move to the colonies, but it was still a harsh blow to deal to his only child. And also, the Duke did not much like liars. 

“My apologies for the way you have been received,” the Duke politely kisses the woman’s hand. “I will send your husband to you immediately.” 

Would the Duke tell his daughter about her future fiancé’s lies and falsehoods, or would that task be left to the liar himself? Bellamy was sure that Finnegan Collins had many more tales to tell Miss Clarke, and he knew that his Princess deserved to hear only truths from the men in her life. 

“I would be much obliged,” Mrs. Collins awkwardly spoke the polite response. 

“Bellamy,” his employer turned to him. “Please fetch my daughter and Mr. Collins and bring them to the library. Tell them it concerns the announcement.” 

He nodded and turned in the direction of the ballroom. To face his Princess again in such a bad situation was not what he had wished for them when he had hoped that they would soon meet again. Alas, it was what Collins’ lies had brought them. 

Bellamy’s Princess was at the center of the festivities, looking stunning in a pale blue gown that only accentuates her eyes. His heart stuttered when first looking at her, and he wished to be allowed to compliment her in the way she deserved. However, this was not in the cards, and therefore he approached Miss Clarke and Mr. Collins timidly. 

“Excuse me,” his words were only directed at Miss Clarke. “Your father the Duke wishes to speak with both of you, concerning the details of the announcement.” 

It sickened him that Collins eagerly linked arms with Clarke, leading her away from the ballroom. Bellamy wondered if the other man was hoping to get more money out of the marriage than he had previously requested. Miss Clarke’s dowry was significant, and many a fortune hunter had previously tried to gain possession of it. 

“If you would please follow me to the library,” as he tried to catch a glimpse of the look on Miss Clarke’s face, he steps in front of the couple, leading their way. 

When they started walking, he noticed that the dress his Princess was wearing shimmered slightly with her every move. It made Bellamy think of how this dress would look under the pale light of the moon, in the gardens where he had once held his Princess close to him. 

“Duke Griffin is waiting inside,” he opened the door for them like a proper butler. 

He would not be allowed to be present for this, no matter how much he wished to support Miss Clarke during what would undoubtedly be a difficult conversation. Mr. Collins thought he had the honor of aiding this beauty, but as he entered the room before letting Clarke step inside, Bellamy saw his opportunity. 

“I am very sorry, Princess,” he whispered before closing the door behind her. 

The pained and surprised look on his Princess’ beautiful face haunted him long after the door closed. 

Even though as a butler, he had to stand guard outside the room to make sure that this conversation was not disturbed, it was impossible for Bellamy to hear a single word of what was being said. The silence dragged on for minutes, until finally there was movement near the door. Someone was trying to open it. 

“I would like to be excused,” his Princess spoke as she threw open the heavy door. 

“Mister Blake,” the Duke sounded angry. “Make sure my daughter is safe.” 

“Yes sir,” he nodded firmly and followed Miss Clarke. 

The pace at which his Princess moved was a little faster than he expected of her, but he caught up to her in the upstairs hallway, in front of the drawing room. Miss Clarke was very artistically gifted, and he had often admired some of her drawings of the house and the people inhabiting it. His Princess was a true artist. 

“He has a wife,” she whirled around at the room’s entrance. “He left his wife in the Colonies while she was with child! He was only with me for Father’s money!” 

There was very little sadness in her gaze – her blue eyes sparkled with righteous wrath, and he wished her father would have let her deal with that worthless man. She deserved to burn right through Finnegan Collins. 

“That man did not deserve you,” Bellamy vowed solemnly, not daring to reach out for her. “Princess, you deserve a happily ever after.” 

This was the very reason why he would not dare touch her again, no matter how strongly he felt for her. Any possibility of a happy ending was out of her reach the minute he made her his – that one time was more than enough to compromise her. They were lucky that Octavia was the person who found them. 

“Well then, my knight,” Clarke’s voice has turned from angry to seductive. 

“Princess,” he responded hesitantly. 

“I require you to see to my happy ending,” she pulled him into the drawing room with a strong hand. “Personally. I do not want anyone else.” 

Bellamy found himself extremely tempted by his Princess, as she pulled her long tresses from the elaborate updo and let it fall down on her shoulders. The dim lighting of the drawing room only made her movements more sensual, and he clenched his fists to keep from being drawn further under her spell. He was certain that he loved her, but he wished to keep that from her – to make sure she achieved that happy ending. 

“Anything you want,” the words fell from his lips too easily. 

Clarke smiled at that, moving ever closer until he could feel his back being pressed against the door. She had crowded him and there was nowhere to move except into her embrace, one he knew would welcome. Underneath his words of heroism, Bellamy Blake was a deeply selfish creature, especially when it concerned Miss Clarke Griffin. 

“I want you,” his Princess leaned in, whispering tauntingly in his ear. 

He was lost in her, so utterly lost in the scent of her – jasmine and vanilla – and the taste of her lips on his – berries, cream, and a hint of just Clarke. He kissed her back like a starving man, pressing her body against his with two tense arms. One arm locked around her waist, caressing the small of her back, while the other tangled in the waves of golden hair that surrounded her face like a halo. 

She was quick to press his hands to the small buttons that fastened her dress, and he was helpless to do anything but unbutton her with trembling hands. The shimmering fabric fell to the floor before Bellamy felt that he was ready for what came next. 

Everything else in the drawing room was gone – there was nothing in his sight or mind except for his Princess, his Clarke. She was stepping out of the dress, throwing it aside with very little care before pressing herself against his slowly heating body. A shiver ran through him when her thin shift allowed him to feel her through their clothes. 

“Take off your clothes,” his Princess continued to order him around. 

What else could he do but obey? His jacket was carelessly tossed on the floor with the help of Clarke, and then it was time to undress him further. Before his hands could open the buttons himself, Clarke stilled his hands. 

Now her warm hands burned through his clothes, and she smirked proudly as she noticed just how affected he was by her presence. So she opened one button, and placed a soft kiss on the skin she had just uncovered. 

“God,” he groaned, almost dizzy with want for her. 

One by one, the buttons escaped their holes with aid of Clarke’s nimble fingers, and she continued to tease every inch of exposed skin. His shirt was completely open now, baring his chest for the explorations and teasing of his Princess. She grew impatient with him so quickly, pushing the shirt off his shoulders and leaving him naked from the waist up. Bellamy would have protested her forwardness if she had not placed his hands on her warm body, one on her thigh and the other moving to pull at her long hair. 

It seemed like his Princess was completely in control, and completely sure of herself, until Bellamy gathered the courage to look her in the eyes. Underneath the mask of the seductress was an inexperienced, yet passionate, young woman who was unsure how to proceed from here. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, gently leading her to the chaise longue. 

“Bellamy,” she pleaded as he laid her down. 

Like a proper gentleman, he stepped out of his shoes before joining her on the flat surface, slowly lowering his body onto hers. Clarke responded with a soft moan that drew his attention to the growing hardness between his legs, now rubbing against their clothes almost painfully. 

She was still so stunning, laid out like this for him to explore. He wished they had the time for him to kiss every inch of her delectable body, but their moment would not last indefinitely. Bellamy was limited in the time he had to show her pleasure. 

He remembered how she had liked it when he put his mouth on her, how she had moaned and gasped and rubbed against him in the gardens. Still, her lips appeared to be waiting for his kiss, and so he met her wicked mouth with his, trying to memorize her taste for all eternity. If they only had this one night…

“More,” she ordered, tearing herself away from their kisses. 

If his Princess wanted more, she would have it. He was still so helpless to resist her, nibbling on the soft skin of near her collarbone, the area where he had once seen the marks that Collins left on her. His voice came out as a growl.”

“Do it,” Clarke understood. “Mark me. I am yours.” 

“Yours,” he whispered in return, scratching his teeth over her skin. 

That only spurred her on, her lithe body rubbing against his as she tried to reach greater heights. He nibbled and licked and sucked and soothed until her skin was marked in a beautiful shade of red. For the moment at least, she was all his. 

Bellamy was distracted, admiring his mark on her skin, and so he only noticed Clarke’s wandering hands until they had grabbed hold of his hardness. He was helpless to do anything but thrust into her hand, and her answering smirk was a thing of beauty – she had realized just how much power she held over him, and she would use it. 

Still, he was unable to let his Princess have all the power, and he had to show her how clever his own hands could be, moving up her thighs and underneath the fabric of her chemise. The skin of her thighs was wonderfully soft under his calloused fingers, and she shivered at the friction he provided. Still his hands moved higher, and higher, until they had reached the most secret part of her, where all the heat in her body was gathering, pulsing, throbbing, aching. She was so warm, and so very wet – and naked. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke’s eyes were wild. 

There was no more need for pleading as one long finger found her bud, and touched it lightly. Her breath halted, her arms wrapping around him. The angle was more awkward this way, but he hoisted up her leg to give himself better access to her. 

When he entered her, just with a single finger, she clamped down on him so hard that he thought he would lose control. Bellamy added another finger, crooking his digits so that he would hit the spongy tissue that was supposed to make women shriek with pleasure. 

Clarke did not disappoint, falling apart around his fingers, her mouth caught on the loudest moan he had ever heard her produce. Sweat was beaded on her forehead, her damp chemise sticking to her curves, her eyes closed. 

“I am floating,” she spoke as she returned to Earth. 

Her blue eyes opened again, pupils still blown wide with desire. He could please her every hour of his life, never be allowed to find pleasure himself, and still he would be the luckiest man in the world. He loved this woman beyond reason, beyond anything else. 

“What about you?” her keen eyes have noticed the tension in his body. 

“I do not need anything,” he replied, trying not to show his need for her. 

“Liar,” her sing-song voice still in his ear as those clever hands moved again. 

His Princess moved her hands to the fastenings on his trousers, and he once again worried he had merely fallen asleep. No reality shone so brightly for Bellamy Blake. 

“Show me, Bellamy,” his love grabbed hold of his hard member. 

“It would ruin you,” he groaned, almost unable to speak a single word. “Clarke.” 

The most beautiful thing was that she did not seem to care about being ruined, about never finding a suitable husband. He still wished to protect her from a lonely future, knowing that he would never be deemed suitable for any bride. 

“Bellamy,” his Princess sighed happily. “I am yours.” 

She helped him pull down his trousers to his ankles, pulling away all of his clothing until he was naked before her. Her eyes gazed upon him, with a gaze both lusty and loving, and he was desperate to finally be with her. 

“I want you,” she coaxed him again, grabbing his behind. 

He was shocked, and even though he reflexively thrust against her warm body, he was sure he would never actually move inside of her. It would be wrong. 

“I love you,” Clarke whispered as she pulled him even closer. 

That did it. He would have been able to fight against words of lust, of need, or of want, but he found that it was impossible to fight the woman who loved him. He kissed her, desperately, hungrily, as he guided himself inside her warmth. 

“Tell me if I should stop,” he warned her, slowly moving deeper. 

“Never,” she swore, raising her body. 

There were no tears in her eyes when he thrust home, just a gasp when he entered further than his long fingers had been. 

“Clarke?” he pleaded, desperate. 

“Oh, Bellamy,” her blue eyes staring at him, filled with wonder. “I feel so full. You are everywhere. I love you. I love you.” 

Bellamy was completely surrounded by her warmth, her body squeezing him intermittently, and finally he dared to move again. His second thrust was even better than the first, Clarke’s body welcoming him home over and over again until he could take no more. The edge was steadily approaching. 

“I am yours,” he vowed when he hit the precipice. “I love you.” 

She had wrung words out of him that he promised himself he would not say. He would never be able to give her more than mere words of love and undying devotion. He was not a husband, or the father of her future children. He could not be – she was the daughter of a Duke, and he was merely the butler. 

“You love me?” Clarke kept him close, unwilling to let him go. 

“I have loved you for so long,” the words poured out of him without permission. “My princess, my lady, my Clarke.” 

His Princess, she pulled him to her and kissed him, so tenderly and lovingly that it was impossible for him to have any doubts about how she cared for him. It seemed as if Clarke cared as much for him as he did for her. 

“Bellamy,” she breathed his name. 

They were happily entwined, hoping the moment would last forever. 

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

That was how Lord Marcus Kane discovered them, and Bellamy feared that his worst nightmare had come true. He had ruined the woman he loved most in the world, and now she would be forced into a desolate life. Miss Clarke Griffin was never meant to be a lowly servant’s wife, she was meant to shine in ballrooms across the city. She deserved to live happily ever after, and to live a comfortable life. 

“My apologies,” Lord Kane was quick to turn around, guarding the door for them. 

Bellamy has grabbed his discarded clothing and dressed himself quickly and methodically, attempting not to give the Lord time to spread this story to anyone. He did not wish to risk the future happiness of his Princess any further. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke pleaded, still tangled in the voluminous skirts of her ball gown. 

“Let me help you, my Princess,” the endearment slipped from his mouth as he undid the damage he had previously wrought. 

Her gown was quickly re-buttoned, leaving Bellamy to allow Lord Kane entry into the drawing room. The other man stood guard still, and Bellamy dreaded what the man would do to him, or to Clarke, because of what he had witnessed. 

“I understand Bellamy and I will have to marry,” Clarke was the first to speak. “I love him, and I would gladly be his wife, for as long as he will have me.” 

This was the woman he loved, defiant and strong even in the face of a life that would be forever altered by her decisions this night. She was ready to throw everything away on a life with him, but Bellamy wondered if she was aware of just how much would have to change. Surely, she would be disowned by her father, and it was impossible to build a family that way. Bellamy would most certainly lose his job, and he knew he deserved this, since he had taken advantage of the young woman he should have protected. 

“I would be honored to see you marry my son,” Kane responded. 

“Your son?” Bellamy stammered. 

His mother had always told him that she did not know who his father was, and while he had never quite believed her, he still respected her decision not to reveal his true paternity at the time. 

“Aurora was beautiful and I loved her,” Lord Kane mused on days that had long since passed. “But my family did not approve, and we were torn apart.” 

And now Lord Kane had passed that fate onto his illegitimate son. Truly, Bellamy was trying not to be bitter. Still, he had no need for a father. The one thing he did need was magic – something that made him good enough for his Princess. 

“I was married once,” the Lord continued. “But alas, my wife was taken from me before she could give me children. Bellamy, you are my only living child.” 

Sure, the story was somewhat tragic, and it did make him wonder if the older man had tales to tell of Aurora Blake when she was young and happy. That was a woman that Bellamy himself never got to know, seeing as his mother was heartbroken before he was born, presumably by Lord Kane and his family. This made him less than inclined to take anything that the man had to offer him. 

“Does that mean he could be your heir?” Clarke was always smarter than him. 

“It does mean that very thing,” Kane appeared to be impressed by Clarke’s knowledge of noble politics and relations. “It would allow you to marry. You would be recognized as the heir of the Kane family – you would have a seat in the House of Lords. There is also a small property in London linked to the title.” 

A part of him protested against accepting charity from the man who had abandoned his mother all those years ago. It seemed cruel to him that he would benefit from his mother’s pain and problems – at least, that is what it felt like to him. 

“Please accept,” Clarke urged him. “Marry me, Bellamy. You know I do not care about your name or your title. I just wish to be yours.” 

His heart was ready to burst at her declaration, and yet he wondered if there was something that Lord Kane was not telling him about. Was there some trick involved in this? Surely things could not be that easy for Bellamy. 

“I accept your offer, Lord Kane,” he replied without another thought. 

“Thank you, my son,” the older man moved to shake his hand. 

So it was to be a gentleman’s agreement for the moment. His father – the word still tasted almost foul on his tongue – would arrange everything else, and Bellamy was free to propose to the woman he loved most of all. 

“My Princess,” he turned to Clarke. “My Clarke. Know that I love you, and know that I am yours, whether I am humble Bellamy Blake or the future Lord Kane. I will never love another. Please accept my proposal. Will you marry me?” 

With a delighted grin, his Princess launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him fiercely. Lord Kane stood to the side, watching them with pained eyes. Their happiness was one that he would never know. 

“That was a yes,” Clarke announced as she let him go to breathe air again. 

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

Duke Griffin was not particularly happy to find that his daughter had already found another fiancé, before the latest prospect exited the house. However, when he saw how happy his daughter was, he could not protest the impending marriage, and made sure the engagement between his daughter and Lord Kane’s son was announced that same night, to the surprise of the ton. 

Many a mother was disappointed that Lord Kane’s only son was off the market before her daughters had ever had the chance to meet him. However, the future Lord only had eyes for his beautiful fiancé. 

A happily ever was not as out of reach as Bellamy had previously thought. 

(As for Mr. Collins… His wife dragged him back to the Americas, where he dutifully attended to their twins, and groveled for at least a year before Mrs. Collins was even remotely interested in forgiving him.)


End file.
